"About this War Loan," I began. "I understand that you advance money at five per cent. to make the purchase."
"Yes, that is so," said the manager, beaming.
I leapt for joy. I had thought that there must be a catch somewhere.
"Put me down for a hundred thousand," I said.
The manager nearly fell out of his swing-chair. "My dear Sir," he gasped, "have you any prospect of being able to save a hundred thousand during the next year or so?"
"Am I a milk-dealer or a munition-worker?" I replied. "I should be both surprised and gratified if I saved that sum in a year. Still I might do it, you know. I should have to give up tobacco, of course. Or suppose relations hitherto unknown to me died and left me handsome legacies. You are always seeing these things in the papers. 'Baker Inherits Half-Million From Lost Australian Uncle.'"
"A hundred," amended the manager. "Shall we say a hundred? You need not pay a deposit. I'll give you a form."
"Where's your patriotism?" I demanded. "A hundred, you say? Well, I decline your overdraft. Keep your ill-gotten much-grudged gain. I'll pay cash."
I left the bank sadly. I had thought of intimating to the blonde, brown and auburn beauties that I had just put a hundred thousand in War Loan. I had imagined their eyes gleaming at the spectacle of one-tenth of a millionaire.
And now I can't go to the bank again. At least not till I have worked up my balance a little above its present total, namely £2 1s. 9d.